Different
by magicallittleme
Summary: It's a Padma fic, kinda about the cruelty of humans and all that stuff. I don't know how to describe it really. Kinda angsty, but it's me! What else were you expecting?


I'm different from the other kids, and I have been as long as I can remember. Even when Parvati and I were just babies, my mother said she could tell that I was special. And I just proved her right over the next few years. 

Before I came to Hogwarts, Mom and I spent a lot of time together. Maybe it was because when she was younger, she had been different too, though not to the same extent as me. 

She said I had started talking in full sentences at only six months, something Parvati didn't achieve until over a year later. And that wasn't all. When I was two, I started to read and not the little picture books either. No, I read full-length chapter books, and understood all of it too. 

We had a strong link, my mom and I. It was almost magical in a way, I could always feel her presence, wherever I went, just like I could feel Parvati's. I could feel their pain too, whenever they got hurt, and it always hurt me. It made me more of a compassionate person. 

But just like I was connected to them, I was connected to all of nature. I know this might sound a bit strange, but when I came in contact with an injured animal or even a flower that had been plucked from the ground, I could hear their pleas for help. 

My mom had told me right from the start to keep all my gifts to myself. I can still hear her voice in my mind, as clear as if it was yesterday.

"Now Padma," she said in that mystical voice of hers. The sun shone down on her dark hair, sending bright coloured streaks through it. There was an air of mystery around her, as she had been a Divinator. "Don't ever tell about what you've got, what you can do. People get scared when they hear about gifts like yours. And when they're scared they can turn real mean. Promise me you won't tell anyone."

"I promise" I whispered, knowing exactly what she had meant, even though I had only been about five or so at the time. "Can I tell Parvati?"

"No dear" she said, stroking my hair back. "Not even Parvati" 

I nodded solemnly and reached for her hand, letting her lead me back into the house. 

We had lived a good life for years. When in school, I held back my abilities so I would seem just like the other kids. I was a good actress. Not even Parvati knew I was doing it, and she knew practically everything about me. 

When I was about nine, something horrible happen. My dad lost his job and started drinking to try and make all his problems go away. Of course, it didn't work. He managed to find another job within a few months, but the damage was done. He was an alcoholic. 

He turned incredibly violent on us, at first only threatening to hit us, but never actually doing it. We lived in fear of him, since we knew that if he was drunk enough he would carry out his threat. 

And then one night, it happened. He came home from work in a particularly grouchy mood and had a few beers. It had turned into a habit by now. He drank a few every morning, and after he came home. It made his mood worse than ever. When Mom tried to confront him, he hit her. 

The blow came out of nowhere. One minute she was standing there in front of him, the next, she was on the ground, an angry red mark on her cheek. I felt a spasm of pain rush through me, and I knew that was what she was feeling. 

"Don't ever try that again, you bitch!" he roared at her, then stomped out. 

And Mom just lay back on the floor, her breathing quick and light. The red mark on her cheek had darkened to a purplish green, and I knew it would leave a mark. 

The two of us rushed over to her and helped her off of the floor and on to a couch. Parvati had tears streaming down her cheeks and I knew mine would start any minute. She gave us both a hug.

"Don't worry girls," she whispered, "everything will be fine" 

And as I lay in bed that night, thinking about the whole thing, something scared me. The scariest thing about it wasn't that Dad had finally hit her, or the horrible looking bruise on her cheek. It was the fact that when he hit her, the golden strand of light in my mind, that was her, had gotten weaker. And the thought of that scared me. What would happen when he hit her more? Would the strand of light that linked us completely dissolve into nothingness?

Over the next few days, he turned on Parvati and I. Mom tried to reason with him; tried to protect us, but nothing she said would penetrate his mind. He just ignored her. 

Those few months were the worst of my life. When he hit us, he left bruises all over. There were physical scars, ones that would heal over time, and then there were the ones on our souls, the ones that would stay there forever. 

I think it was because of that period in my life that I wrote so many poems. It was a way for me to get away from all the terrors in my life, to express my emotions in writing. I remember one of my very first ones. 

__

In a crystal castle in the clouds

There lives a dreamer of dreams

Sparkling streams flow around her

Dropping into never ending waterfalls

A canopy of stars twinkle above her

Fiery comets streak across the heavens

And yet she wonders why there's 

Such an ache inside her

When there's such beauty around her

A small tears rolls down her cheek

As she thinks

Of the corrupted world around her

Of the cruelty of humans

Of all the violence in her world

And she wonders how anyone

Can stand live like this

She just can't take 

The horrible pain anymore

How she can live in such

A wonderful place

While so many others are suffering

She feels the pain of a thousand people

It drives her off the edge

She dives and falls

As a shimmering rainbow of colours

Guide her to the kind arms of Death

Yes, my poems were a bit morbid. But I knew of no happier memories then. It's sad really, a ten year old child knowing such horrible pain.

I was ecstatic when I received that letter to Hogwarts. It was a way out, a road straight to happiness. Parvati bounced around happily with me, both of us knowing that we were finally free. 

When we boarded the train, our happiness distinguished into nervousness. There were just so many other people on the train, and we barely knew any magic at all, even though we were both pure blooded witches. Mom just never had the time to teach us. 

We found an empty compartment on the train and sat down. I opened one of my magic books and started leafing through it, hoping to pick up something useful before we arrived. Some other girls soon joined us, and Parvati got along with them really well. Before I knew it, we had arrived.

We stood in a line with all of the other nervous, anxious first years and waited to be sorted. Mom had told us what would happen, so we were pretty well prepared. 

Finally, it was my turn. I stepped up to the stool, ignoring the sea of faces looking up at me. Darkness enveloped me before I could think about it. 

__

Oh my, oh my. How interesting, the hat whispered in my ear. 

__

What's interesting, I asked curiously. 

It didn't answer, just went on talking. _I don't know where I'll put you. You have a thirsty mind, you'll do well in Ravenclaw. Definately not a Gryffindor or a Hufflepuff. _

I felt a twinge of disappointment, as my sister had just hopped off to the Gryffindor table. 

__

Oh my, what's this? A definite thirst to prove yourself. Maybe I'll put you in Slytherin. 

The hat went on talking for what seemed like hours, it couldn't decide whether to put me in Slytherin or Ravenclaw. Finally, it made it's decision. 

"Ravenclaw!" it yelled to the school. 

Maybe it should've put me in Slytherin. Because here I am, a fifth year, and I've definately proved myself to the world. Yet there's still something that scares me, that I'm not sure I've conquered. 

My best friend, is none other than Draco Malfoy. Go ahead, laugh all you want, it's true. We met in first year, during Astronomy. At first, I thought him to be the prat everyone said he was, but then I saw something different. Something about him captivated me. 

While we were looking up through our telescopes, I happened to look over at him again. He wasn't working, just staring into space, having one of those moments. You know, when you're completely yourself with none of the shields you put on during the day to keep people to finding the real you. 

He saw me looking at him, and for some strange reason, he smiled at me. I was completely surprised. I expected him to be all furious and threaten me or something, but none of that happened. He just...smiled. We've been best friends ever since. 

It's not easy being friends with him, even though the rivalry between Slytherin and Ravenclaw isn't as strong as the one between Slytherin and Gryffindor. During the day, we pretend not to know each other at all, he jokes with his friends, me with mine. We have to slip away at night to talk to each other. 

Draco is...special. It's the only way I know how to put it. He has his own talent, though they're nothing like mine. He has a passion for flying, and can do almost anything on his broom.

I've spent so much time with him that I know him better than he knows himself. He tells me practically everything, and the rest I can figure out for myself. It works the other way too. 

Now though, I'm scared, because of all the terrors in our world. He is too, though he doesn't say anything about it. I can tell. He's just as scared of Voldemort as I am, but he's afraid to show his fear. 

It's not only the wizarding world that's in trouble, it's the Muggles too. From news programs and things I see in the summer, I can tell that the wars are worse than ever. 

It's the end of the world in a way. Us humans are going to fight against one another until we destroy ourselves. Human nature is the worst of it. What happens when people are scared? Muggle humans anyways. They go out and buy a gun. Violence is bred in our bones. 

Voldemort has made more killing than ever now. Each day, people join his forces. And some of us are just so scared, we hide, trying to block out all the terrors. It makes it a losing fight. 

I shrudder to think what would happen if Voldemort got his hands on some of the Muggle weapons I've seen. Yes, his spells are powerful, but they're nothing compared to some of the things human technology has created. The atomic bomb, for instance. 

Every day now, I try and reach others who're like me, try to convince them to join me. I know I have a job in all of this. Maybe, a miracle will happen and me and my small band of allies can stop this increasing battle. 

That's what I was doing at the Yule Ball last year. Everyone thought I was such a ditz, ditching Ron to go dancing with that Beauxbatons guy. That wasn't it at all. I sensed something about him, and I needed to go and talk to him. At the end of the Ball, I had a small victory. He agreed to help me. 

And it doesn't matter anyways. I don't even like Ron. I only went with him because I was feeling sorry for him, and also because Parvati asked me to. I'd do almost anything for her. 

Draco already agreed to do this with me. He never even hesitated when I asked. "Just tell me when you're ready," he had said, "and I'll be there" 

So each day I work, trying to seek out others that are like me. It's easier now, as most of the classes has been cut so the teachers can go out and try to stop Voldemort. 

Now, I constantly fear that I won't have enough time to finish collecting enough people. Each day, thousands of people get killed, in both our worlds. Soon it'll be then end. 

Homo sapien. Intelligent man. I curse the stupid fool who named us that. Look where that's gotten us. We've created horrible weapons, both Muggle and wizard. A wand can do just about anything if you have the right spell. And all the weapons the Muggles have dreamed up...

It only leads to the destruction of our species. Soon, we can all wish the world goodbye. 

Disclaimer: If you recognize it, it's not mine. 

AN: Hopefully, you're in a daze right now. Review? =)


End file.
